Chapter 1
The gentle scraping of cutlery filled the silence.
Daphne Greengrass watched her younger sister Astoria exchange a knowing look with her fiancée Draco Malfoy, out of the corner of her eye and Daphne’s stomach dropped, completely mortified.
“What about your friend, er- what’s his name, Zabini?” her mother offered, politely.
Draco’s knuckles clenched around his knife and fork.
“Is a man, mother, as much as I’m sure I’d enjoy spending more time with him, my previous statement still stands,” Daphne corrected.
Her father gave her mother a sideways glance before cutting into his pie.
Henrietta Greengrass pursed her lips and sighed deeply, “yes, but,”
Daphne cleared her throat, “I don’t wish to revisit the trauma of me coming out again mother, but I need to remind you that I can’t like Blaise like that,”
Her mother was completely undeterred, as always, “or Lord Black, he’s pretty,”
Draco covered an amused snort with a cough and gave Astoria another glance.
Her father, William, sighed and reached for his wine, “leave her darling, I’d rather focus on the one wedding, for now,”
Her mother stabbed her salad childishly, and gave her husband a sideways glance, “of course, I just worry about her,”
He patted her hand, “she’s fine,” he dismissed and returned to his meal.
Her mother swallowed harshly and glanced down at her salad, schooling her expression, and giving the table’s occupations a falsified smile.
Daphne suppressed the wave of pity for her mother, her greatest adversary. Held together by rage, Draught of Peace, and too-tight designer clothes, she led a pitiful existence, lashing out at her children below her whilst playing obedient wife to the husband she quite clearly didn’t respect.
Oh, how she wanted Daphne and Astoria to suffer the way that she did.
Daphne went back to her own salad, not quite nutritious enough for an adult woman, and spared a glance for the luscious steak pies on Draco and her father’s plates.
Where she pitied her mother, she envied Astoria in that way, born with the capacity to do as she was told, to marry the nicest rich man she could find and escape their mother’s clutches.
Daphne ate a mouthful of leaves, recalling how as a child no older than nine, she’d once asked for vinaigrette for her birthday.
After a few more moments of awkward silence, Astoria came to her rescue, sparking up a conversation about the wedding planning. The event itself only a month away.
Draco met Daphne’s eye, his eyebrow twitching in question. She subtly nodded.
Against all odds, he turned out to be a wonderful man, self-aware and surprisingly gentle.
Astoria had been the one to pursue him, Daphne had been envious but ultimately happy for them, she was delighted to be a bridesmaid.
“Have you finalised the bridal party?” her mother asked excitedly.
Astoria smiled diplomatically and nodded, “yes, I asked Daphne to be a bridesmaid, Flora and Hestia Carrow too, Pansy Parkinson, Maria Selwyn, and Amanda is my maid of honour,” she listed.
Their mother frowned, “not Daphne?” she asked, as though indignant on Daphne’s behalf. Realistically, she was likely horrified at Astoria’s half-blood best friend being anywhere near the wedding.
Astoria smiled, undiscouraged, “no,”
Her mother could recognise defeat, “and yours Draco?”
“Blaise is my best man, we’ve decided on five, so Nott, Black, Rosier and Lestrange,”
Her mother’s eyes lit up, “and who will Daphne be paired with?”
Draco glanced at Daphne, eyes filled with amusement, “Theo,”
“Oh, well he’s lovely, Daphne, you like Theodore?”
Daphne had to restrain herself from banging her head on the table, “mother,” she nearly whined, “I do like Theo, but as a friend,” she insisted, repeating herself for what felt like the millionth time.
“You’ll make a handsome pair,” her mother continued.
Don’t scream.
“I believe Theo is seeing someone, but he’s keeping it under wraps,” Draco interrupted.
“Is it Pansy?” she asked excitedly, “lovely girl,” she reiterated, looking to her husband for confirmation. He gave her a confused nod.
Draco looked dumbfounded for a brief moment before he shook his head, “I’m not sure,” he muttered, looking to Astoria for help.
Astoria pressed her lips together and seemed to be struggling to control her expression. With her smooth brown hair, fringe and preppy headband, anyone else might assume she was being dismissive. But Daphne could see her holding her breath.
“What?” her mother demanded, insecurity marring her tone.
Astoria took a haggard breath and glanced at Daphne, eyes swimming with mirth, “nothing, I wasn’t aware about Theo, but I will admit to never hearing anyone describe Pansy as lovely,”
Draco hid a smile behind his wine glass.
Her mother scoffed in a very unladylike way, “she sent me an advance on her latest collection, I think what she’s done with the line of hers is wonderful,”
Pansy, not heir, Parkinson was lucky enough to have the freedom to take some family money and start a fashion line a few years back. She almost exclusively used it to bribe the women of Europe. Her cousin, the heir, had two sons and another baby on the way, leaving Pansy to gallivant wherever she wanted. Her bore of a father too uninterested to pay much attention.
Astoria reluctantly agreed. She too had been sent the collection and had never lived in a dorm with the vicious witch.
“We’ll have lots of time to catch up,” Astoria offered, “maybe she’ll be able to tell you about the autumn collection,”
Her mother smiled pleasantly, “oh yes, it’s all very exciting, I’ll definitely be asking, have you made any changes to the previous plan?”
Daphne tuned them out, she could recite the wedding plans in her sleep, they hadn’t changed since Astoria was nineteen, now twenty-three. Having a wedding plan was as vital to a housewife-in-waiting and Astoria was organised to the point of over doing it, she’d drawn pictures and sourced everything before she’d ever even dated Draco.
He regarded the whole thing with bemusement, allowing her to take the lead but decided his role in the planning was making sure she came up for air, taking care of her whilst she directed everything down to the finite detail, they fit well, complimented each other.
Daphne was envious, as seemed to be her primary feeling these days.
“Well, don’t forget your sister can help,” her mother interrupted.
Astoria looked over at Daphne open mouthed.
Her father tutted, “no she can’t dearest, Daphne is working with me on our current deal,”
The deal that Daphne hoped she wouldn’t have to tell Draco about.
“Oh of course,” her mother miraculously remembered, “have you met his sons? Surely you can’t find fault with all five of them,”
Daphne would scream into a pillow later.
The Greengrass family Sunday dinner was always a fantastic way to set Daphne up for the new week. Monday, she assisted her father with his businesses and accounts. Tuesday, whilst her father served the Wizengamot court, her mother insisted she joined her shopping, which as always, was hours upon hours of idle gossip and back handed comments, usually about her weight. Wednesday, was more accounts and politics, trying to fill in the silence with her father.
She snapped by Thursday, as she usually did.
Draco and their other friends met every Thursday morning, there was an open invitation, but it was more often just the men who made it.
Daphne tried not to attend every week; she’d developed a rather sad habit of telling her father she was going whilst escaping elsewhere.
“Daphne,” her father called from his office. He frowned when she appeared in the doorway dressed to go out, usually around the house she tended to stay in well-tailored trousers and thick enough jumpers that she didn’t have to additionally stifle herself with a bra.
She glanced down at her appropriate, boring court heels.
“Ah, you’re going to Nott’s, can you pass on this to Rosier, I could do with a meeting?” her father passed her a stamped letter, his question rhetorical.
She took the envelope and placed it gently in her bag, “anything else?”
“Let me know what’s said, I have the feeling they’re displeased about being left out of the deal with Selwyn,”
Daphne nodded obediently, pushing away the sinking feeling that she’d have to stay the whole morning, and would be expected to spy on her friends.
Lord Selwyn was a fierce competitor of Britain’s wealthiest. He’d protected his assets and moved abroad to protect his family before the war, and returned with a ‘clear’ conscience, presenting himself as a neutral and safe business option. And gosh did it work.
He’d been underhandedly attempting to ruin the reputations of many of her friends, including Rosier, who’d attended muggle primary school and a contemporary secondary school in Germany.
Displeased was an understatement. Daphne was sure they’d been seething since the previous morning’s front page announcement.
Her father returned to his work, the grey in his salt and pepper hair catching the light.
He didn’t bother with a dismissal.
She slunk out of the room, shutting the door without making a sound and headed for the fireplace.
“Wait a second, young lady,” her mother scolded, just as Daphne had freedom in sight “where are you going? We have brunch with Lady Malfoy,”
Fuck.
Daphne swallowed her panic, “father has asked for me to deliver a message to Lord Rosier and gage their opinions on our recent coalition with Lord Selwyn,”
Her mother looked rather like she’d been slapped, “I will pass on your apologies then,”
Daphne nodded, “I’ll sent a note when I return, to apologise,”
“As you should, go then,” Henrietta dismissed, her expression full of supressed bitterness.
Daphne fled into the floo, quick enough that the travel knocked her breath away and she felt nearly lightheaded as she stepped into the entrance hall of Nott Castle, though that could’ve been because of the measly fruit bowl she’d eaten for breakfast.
Her mother hated that her father treated her almost like a male heir.
Almost.
She too had been the eldest child but had been cast away for her youngest brother.
Lady Greengrass had been unable to give her husband a male heir.
Daphne looked around the familiar stone entry. The space was cavernous and airy, huge stone bricks leading up to a detailed stained-glass ceiling. It remained nearly bare, with limited decorations, dark wood furnishings and little to no softness.
Theodore hated it, he tended to purchase new home furnishings whenever he had the spare time but singlehandedly maintaining a centuries old estate alone didn’t allow him a lot of that.
Daphne regained her breath and headed towards the living room.
The floo fired behind her, just as she was leaving the entry.
She looked over her shoulder and spotted Blaise Zabini gracefully exciting the fireplace.
He nodded in greeting, stalking towards her in a way the models of New York and Milan would envy. She waited from him, studying the clean-cut lines of his black suit.
As usual, she was hit with the overwhelming feeling of being the worst woman alive. It was a typical feeling around him, and possibly may never go away.
His expression was blank as he began walking beside her, though his eyes were fond, “shouldn’t you be hiding in your attic for the morning?” he drawled, though gently nudged her with his elbow.
Daphne nudged him back, “I’m on delivery duty and have to spend the morning spying on all of you,” she revealed, not guilty at all.
Blaise gave her an amused look out of the corner of his eye before looking straight ahead again, “cold feet about undermining every single one of his allies including his future son-in-law?”
Daphne looked up at him for a moment, considering his handsome features, again overcome with the guilt of what could have been, “it appears so,”
“I can’t wait for the wedding then,” he chuckled, glancing down at her again. Apparently, her guilt was visible, “what?”
Daphne cleared her throat and stood straighter, “my mother has been relentless at suggesting me matches, I just wanted to warn you in case she bothers you,”
He looked over her with an unreadable expression, “noted,”
They lapsed into silence, reaching the door to the living room. Blaise opened it for her and followed in after.
Their congregated friends looked up in greeting but went back to whatever they were doing.
Astoria looked up from where she seemed to be showing Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey her wedding schedule. Neither looked particularly interested.
“Oh, thank god,” she groaned dramatically, “I’ve been trying to contact you all bloody week,”
Going against tradition she’d already moved into Malfoy Manor months ago, stating that she refused to marry a man before finding out if he knew how to clean up after himself. Her parents reluctantly agreed with an ironclad betrothal agreement.
Though, the move had the unintended side effect of limiting contact between the sisters, most of Daphne’s communications went through her parents, especially during her current ‘phase’.
Daphne gave her a polite smile, “everything alright?”
Astoria scoffed, “no it is not! I half planned to storm the words, Draco had to talk me out of hiding in the changing rooms at Madam Malkins,”
Draco gave his friends an amused glance at her theatrics but everyone in that room knew he was quite capable of causing his own scene.
Daphne sat primly in the available space next to Felix Rosier, grateful to put some distance between herself and Blaise, “I didn’t go into the changing rooms so he probably saved you quite an awkward encounter, wouldn’t want word to get out about you being a voyeur,” she teased as she reached into her bag and produced the letter for Felix, handing it over to him.
She made eye contact, flushing at the amused expression on his face, “what?”
Daphne glanced around the room at the similarly amused expressions.
Astoria snorted, “did you get into mum’s romance books?”
Her stomach sunk in embarrassment, of course the joke was her perpetual virginity. Poor Daphne Greengrass, destined for a life of a lonely spinster, unattracted to the beautiful man so clearly in love with her, parents too backwards to let her live a true life.
Felix opened the letter and scanned the contents, “Greengrass, this is a marriage contract,”
Daphne snatched the letter out of his hands in quite an undignified manner, reading it for herself.
The words were a blur but the ones she deciphered were clear enough.
It was a marriage contract.
Her father sent her to deliver her own prison sentence.
She gave it back but glared up at him, “don’t sign it,” she warned.
He lifted both hands in surrender, “wasn’t planning on it,” he replied, glancing at their friends.
Daphne lifted her chin, “I look dreadful in purple, and I’ll make your life a living hell,”
His eyes lit up with amusement, “thank you for suitably warning me,”
She scanned him to ensure he was telling the truth. Warning aside, she liked Felix Rosier, and if circumstances were different, marrying him wouldn’t be that awful. He was handsome anyway, taller than Blaise and Draco, but not as tall as Theo, soft lips, charming dark-blond hair. He was the kind of man you’d marry to enact your childhood dreams of being a princess.
Not for Daphne though.
“Where’s mine?” Theo asked, sounding quite put out.
Daphne looked over to him lounging on his sofa, glass of whiskey in hand despite it being eleven o’clock. He was handsome too, though none of them had much of an excuse being able to afford the best barbers, skincare, and clothes, she could see the appeal of his messy brown curly hair and sleepy blue eyes.
She shrugged one shoulder, “lost in the mail,”
Theo smirked, “I’d show you a great time Greengrass,” he drawled, wiggling his eyebrows.
Her distaste at the suggestion clearly showed as Draco snorted from beside him.
She covered it up with a polite smile, but the damage was done.
Draco leaned over to him, “I think that’s a no,”
Theo pouted theatrically, “Parkinson had a similar reaction, I’m starting to think it’s me,”
Daphne didn’t need be reminded of that.
Pansy and Theo should’ve been a dream couple, though neither were particularly interested. Both as beautiful and abrasive as each other, on paper they were a match made in heaven. Unfortunately, whatever was in the water that affected Daphne had also spread to Pansy, except Parkinson’s line of work, and more relaxed family dynamics, meant she could parade herself weekly with a new model or curious celebrity on her arm, above any consequences.
“It’s your personality Nott,” Astoria teased, “but that’s hardly the issue when our esteemed friend is refusing to wear one of my bridesmaid dresses, I mean, what a cow!”
Daphne took a moment to drum up the enthusiasm expected of her with the news of her father sending out handwritten notes begging the men of Britain to take his defective heir, plus the reminder of Parkinson’s freedom. “Oh no,”
That still fell short.
Blaise snickered quietly, glancing at Marcus in amusement.
“Oh no,” Astoria repeated, like the term didn’t compute.
“Darling,” Draco intercepted, “I’m sure Daphne doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation, perhaps you can explain a little more clearly,”
Daphne glanced at formally evil little bastard Draco Malfoy, only seeing lovestruck, mature, Astoria Malfoy’s future husband.
“Oh,” her brows furrowed as she took her binder from Marcus, “Pansy’s saying silver doesn’t suit her complexion, but Flora and Hestia have already had their fittings,”
Daphne tried to bring her anxiety levels down from ‘my world is crumbling around me’ to ‘future billionaire’s wife needs to find new dresses’ by taking a few calming breaths.
She smiled at Astoria encouragingly, “all that means is they have their measurements, I’m sure they’ll be happy to go to another fitting, there’s usually at least three anyway,”
Astoria took a deep breath, “but the colour,” she resisted weakly and glanced at Draco,
Daphne nodded, “Astoria you know that binder back to front, send Pansy swatches of the colours in the wedding and ask for her feedback on which she would wear, it might be a good idea to add some complimenting colours,” she suggested.
Astoria nodded timidly, “you’re sure?”
Daphne gave her an unimpressed look, “if not, tell her you’re replacing her with someone that’s less of an arse,”
Felix snorted from beside her, “that’ll do it,”
Astoria looked horrified, “I can’t do that,”
“Tell her I said it,” Draco offered.
She glanced at him again then nodded, “okay,” she muttered to herself, collecting her notes, “I have brunch, Daphne aren’t you coming?”
Daphne shook her head, “no, I’m spying on behalf of our treacherous father,”
Astoria studied her then nodded again, she shoved her papers into her bag, kissed Draco quickly and rushed out.
The door shut slowly, her form retreating towards the entrance.
If Daphne moved quick enough, she’d be able to catch her.
“We’re relinquishing support for his agriculture deal,” Theo spoke eventually.
Daphne’s stomach dropped, “oh, I’ll let him know,”
She did not want to tell her father that.
He’d been working on his proposal for nearly a decade, since before the war and they’d only begun to resume a half-normal service in the Wizengamot court. It was rather controversial, should it pass it’d be a positive sign for the country, putting a lot of grass roots’ funding into rural agriculture and encouraging people to move into the occupation, but that was at a huge loss to many wealthier families who often made money on imports.
Theo frowned and stared at her, “at least Felix’s little letter means you weren’t part of his discussions with Selwyn,”
Daphne sighed, “yes, well I suppose that’s true,” she replied faintly, giving Theo a small smile for his attempts to reassure her.
Such good news that her father attempted to sell her to one man over another.
Felix huffed from beside he, “we’re not pleased Daphne,” he offered gently, “I understand this is an uncomfortable position for you to be in but please try to stress the importance of him repairing relations, if Draco wasn’t the one marrying Astoria, I might consider not attending,”
Daphne nodded obediently.
She wished to scream and cry, beg them to brush it off so she didn’t have to be the one to displease her father further. Luckily for her, nearly everything she did was at least a little bit uncomfortable to the point she was nearly numbed to it.
“I’ll speak with him, and I apologise myself for not being able to sway his decision making, unfortunately my opinion on the matter was deemed unimportant,”
As always.